


shake me 'til you wake me

by sinsa



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Brief Mention of Cigarettes, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 14:31:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6989074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinsa/pseuds/sinsa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kise fixes Miyuki's makeup, Miyuki gets his fix of Kise.</p><blockquote>
  <p>“Ugh,” Kise mutters, and Miyuki blinks, stilling when he sees how close Kise’s face is to his own. There’s eyeliner smudging at the corners of Kise’s eyes, but knowing Kise, it’s probably intentional. It looks good, too; there’s some kind of eyeshadow that makes his eyes look bigger, more luminous, emphasizing the gold hue that makes them glow in the first place.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	shake me 'til you wake me

**Author's Note:**

> title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kffacxfA7G4).

“Stop moving,” Kise snaps, as he’s trying to fix the contour that Miyuki had accidentally wiped off, when he propped up his chin with his palm against his cheek. “Akashicchi and Ryousuke-san are going to kill you if they see you like this.” He pushes Miyuki into a chair, leaning down towards him. Then he gets down on his knees to get a better angle. 

“It’s really not my fault,” Miyuki says amicably. Kise looks like he wants to kill him. Miyuki isn’t even sure why it matters so much, they’ve already walked, so they only have to attend the after party now. “It’s not! They should make, like, permanent makeup. Or semi-permanent, I don’t want to look like a skeleton forever.” 

“Miyukicchi,” Kise says, placatingly. “For the last time, contour helps naturally define—” 

Miyuki puts his hands over his ears, almost knocking the brush out of Kise’s hand. “Not this again,” he says loudly, to drown Kise out. “I can’t listen to you talk about this again—” 

“Ugh,” Kise mutters, and Miyuki blinks, stilling when he sees how close Kise’s face is to his own. There’s eyeliner smudging at the corners of Kise’s eyes, but knowing Kise, it’s probably intentional. It looks good, too; there’s some kind of eyeshadow that makes his eyes look bigger, more luminous, emphasizing the gold hue that makes them glow in the first place. 

“Miyukicchi,” Kise says, and Miyuki starts. 

“What?” 

“Please breathe.” He’s smirking, and Miyuki glares at him, his hands tightening on his knees. Despite that, he still sucks in a breath, lungs expanding. “And you’re done, look in the mirror.” 

Miyuki had barely even noticed the brush gliding across his skin. When he turns, he sees that the smudge from earlier isn’t even visible anymore, patched up nicely under Kise’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Miyuki says, about to roll up his shirt-sleeves, but Kise catches his wrist before he can. 

“Let me,” Kise murmurs, and Miyuki gulps, when Kise lowers his lids. “You’re going to wrinkle the shirt if you do it wrong.” 

“I’m starting to think I don’t know how to do anything,” Miyuki says, as Kise’s fingers lightly brush over his skin, up his forearm. He’s pretty sure the tiny hairs are standing up, as nervous as Miyuki himself. 

“You really don’t,” Kise informs him, flashing a smile. Before Miyuki can pull the corner of his lips down into a frown, Kise adds, “But that’s okay.” 

Miyuki pauses, a little confused. “What?” 

“You have me!” Kise says brightly, as he finishes rolling up the second of Miyuki’s sleeves. “Okay, all done.” 

Miyuki shifts his focus to turn back to him and say thanks, but then he realizes Kise hasn’t moved away. He’s still on his knees, his hands bracing himself on the back of Miyuki’s chair. Miyuki can’t help it: he flutters his eyelids shut, but Kise doesn’t kiss him. 

Miyuki opens his eyes again. “What the hell?” 

Kise still hasn’t moved. “Why are you shaking so much?” he asks, like he’s asking what the forecast is for the day. “It’s not even your first kiss.” 

“I— _What?_ You don’t know that!” 

Kise snorts, sitting back on his heels a bit. It’s a relief, because Miyuki felt kind of dizzy from trying not to cross his eyes. “First of all, you’re twenty-five, Miyukicchi, not fifteen. And I saw you, a couple months ago at the Halloween party.” 

Miyuki swallows, desperately trying to remember what he’d done at the Halloween party. “What?” 

“You were making out with the model from Korea,” Kise informs him. “The one who I walked with?” 

_Oh_. Right. Yes. Miyuki remembers now. “So?” 

“So why are you so nervous?” Kise leans forward again, a hand coming to tilt Miyuki’s chin up. Miyuki’s lips part, almost naturally, and Kise’s breath hitches in his throat. “And you’re really pretty, I’m sure a lot of people have kissed you before.” 

Not really, but Miyuki’s always been a bit oblivious to this kind of stuff. Still, even he knows what Kise’s about to do, so he closes his eyes again, hands coming up to rest against Kise’s shoulders, consciously trying not to fist his fingers into the expensive fabric. He’s about to reach up to take his glasses off before he remembers that he’s just gotten off the runway, he’s wearing contacts. Kise tastes like champagne and mint candy and lip gloss, and the combination should be disgusting but it’s not. There’s something else. A beat later, Miyuki recognizes it as tobacco, as Kise sucks on his his bottom lip. 

Miyuki pulls away before Kise’s ready. “Have you been smoking again?” he accuses. “I thought you kicked the habit—” 

“No,” Kise cuts in, his eyes still on Miyuki’s mouth. Miyuki darts a tongue out, not meaning to tease him, but Kise’s pupils dilate, his hands moving down Miyuki’s chest to unbutton his shirt. “I was just outside and one of the girls was smoking, it wasn’t me.” 

“What, and then you kissed her?” 

Kise pauses, before pushing the fabric over Miyuki’s shoulders, taking it off entirely. “No,” he says. “I just talked to them for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Miyuki says slowly, but then Kise leans down to mouth at Miyuki’s clavicle, and his tongue feels better than how annoyed Miyuki is, so he lets himself become pliant under Kise’s hands. 

When Kise kisses him again, Miyuki can hear his panting between breaths, and when he shifts, Miyuki can feel that he’s hard against Miyuki’s thigh. The knowledge sparks, stinging its way down the small nerves of Miyuki’s neck. 

“I—” Miyuki breaks off when Kise closes his mouth around a nipple. Miyuki jerks up helplessly, his head falling back. “Kise, stop—” 

“What?” Kise asks, and his makeup is too smudged to be intentional now, but Miyuki likes how it looks on him anyway. 

“Can I?” Miyuki pushes him away, sliding off the chair to get to his knees. Kise looks stunned for a second before straightening up. Kise’s tall, so Miyuki pulls himself up higher on his knees, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally undoing it. 

He’s done this before, but he’d never been sober. And this is _Kise_ , not some random hook-up he can forget about once he washes his mouth out. When his eyes flit up, he sees that Kise’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth, even though Miyuki still hasn’t put his mouth on him yet. 

“Why are you so nervous?” Miyuki asks, parroting him from earlier, and Kise flushes. Before he can reply, Miyuki mouths him through his boxers, pulling him out a second later. He arches his back, when Kise tentatively tangles a hand in his hair, and Kise pulls a little harder. The first few sucks are dry, but Miyuki works up enough spit that the glide gets better, a hand pumping the base of Kise’s dick. 

“That— That’s good,” Kise manages, voice low, and it makes heal curl up in Miyuki’s belly, his thighs straining familiarly. Miyuki flattens his tongue, taking as much of him as he can with his mouth and dropping his hands to his knees, bobbing his head. Kise gasps, every time Miyuki stays down, eyes sliding shut. 

By the time he pulls off, Kise’s shaking, his hand still fisted tight. Miyuki is almost completely sure that his hair is ruined; there’s no saving it once Kise’s done. “You can fuck my mouth,” Miyuki says, smiling, and Kise just gapes at him. 

“What the hell,” he mutters, before adjusting his grip on Miyuki’s hair. The head of his dick touches the corner of Miyuki’s mouth, and Miyuki opens his mouth immediately, eagerly. Kise eases him back into it at first, like a real fucking gentleman, but Miyuki only has a second to adjust before Kise thrusts. It’s more than Miyuki’d been expecting, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself not to gag. Kise pauses, before fucking his mouth again, setting a pace that has Miyuki barely holding on, keeping his tongue flat and sucking the best he can without choking. 

The dressing room is small, and the noises Kise’s making are very loud in Miyuki’s ears. It occurs to him suddenly, flashing through his head so fast that he almost misses it, that _he's_ the one doing this to Kise. His jaw aches, but Miyuki doesn't dare stop now, not with Kise's face like that and the sounds being ripped right out of his throat. He lets his teeth scrape gently, just to see what Kise’ll do. Then Kise’s entire body shudders, and then he’s coming into Miyuki’s mouth, too much and too fast for Miyuki to swallow all at once. He reaches up, stroking Kise through it, feeling the come spill out of his mouth and down his chin. 

“Stop,” Kise says — orders, really — and his voice sounds so good, wrecked and ruined. Miyuki wants to just listen to him talk and get himself off, but then Kise pushes his shoulders. Miyuki sits back on his heels, a little stunned, but then Kise’s pulling him up, his mouth immediately latching onto Miyuki’s neck. Miyuki’s so hard that he knows if Kise moves just right, he’ll come. Kise probably knows this too, because he’s deliberately not giving him any friction, just licking over his neck, dirty and sloppy just like Miyuki’s always liked it. 

It shouldn't be a surprise that Kise knows what Miyuki wants. Miyuki arches his body into Kise's, until he's panting so hard the airflow in his lungs isn't enough.

“Ryouta,” Miyuki gasps, when he feels Kise’s teeth on his shoulder, biting a mark that’s definitely going to be there tomorrow. “ _Ryouta_ , I— I need—” 

Then Kise pulls him up higher, slips his leg in between Miyuki’s, letting him rut into his thigh until he’s coming, messy and loud, his face buried into Kise’s neck the entire time. 

It takes a minute or so, but Miyuki regains his breath, pulling himself out of Kise’s arms. Kise tucks himself back in methodically, zipping up his pants and re-doing the belt. 

“Your makeup,” Kise says, hesitantly. Miyuki picks up a towel from somewhere behind him and starts wiping his face clean. A moment later, Kise snatches it out of his hands, and does it himself, Miyuki’s eyes still flickering towards Kise’s mouth. 

“Can I kiss you?” Miyuki asks, the question tumbling out of his mouth before he finishes forming the thought, when Kise drops the towel. Kise looks at him, his expression unreadable. “I mean, you’re going to have to fix our makeup anyway, just—” 

“Jesus, Miyukicchi,” Kise grumbles, cupping the back of Miyuki’s neck. “Shut up.” Then Kise’s sucking Miyuki’s tongue into his mouth, licking kittenishly until he gets a sound out of Miyuki, his lips plush and swollen when Miyuki bites down on them. Miyuki kind of wants to nip Kise’s earlobe and feel him squirm, but it’s too hard to leave Kise’s mouth, especially right now as he’s making tiny sounds that vibrate straight across Miyuki’s lips, down his spine. 

All the air leaves Miyuki’s lungs before he’s forced to pull away, gasping. Kise isn’t much better, but he’s quicker to compose his face again, turning away. 

“Please sit, Miyukicchi,” Kise says, and Miyuki hears the catch in his throat, before he clears it. “I have to fix your face.” 

“Wha— Okay.” Miyuki sits. Then he says, “And my face is great already, you said so yourself.” 

“I don’t have any recollection of this,” Kise says loftily. His face is very close to Miyuki’s again, and Miyuki doesn’t breathe. Until he does, all at once. “Miyukicchi,” Kise says, a little sternly. “You’re not very good at this breathing thing.” 

“You’re going to have to teach me then,” Miyuki fires back, before pausing, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

Kise doesn’t reply immediately, just pats some product into Miyuki’s cheekbones with a sponge. Then he leans forward, his mouth impossibly light on Miyuki’s own mouth, a ghost of a kiss more than anything else. “Okay,” he says, and Miyuki catches the grin curving up the corner of his lips, before he turns away again. 

“Just so you know,” Kise adds, as he’s finishing up Miyuki’s makeup. “I’m a really strict teacher.” 

“I’m a really good student,” Miyuki counters. 

Kise looks amused. “I usually don’t even take students.” 

“Don’t worry,” Miyuki says, and he’d kiss him again, if Kise wasn’t starting to fix his own makeup. “I’ll make sure not to disappoint you.”


End file.
